


recreational violence and how to meet people

by spocklee



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, LARP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spocklee/pseuds/spocklee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hawke has to choose between LARP or a full time job. she kind of regrets choosing the one that doesn't pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hawke sat in the park ranger office, a small beige bungalow hushed to the side of the path connecting the woods and a parking lot. Spring was starting. The daylight that came through the office window was warm and obnoxiously yellow, and fell halfway across the cheap metal table that separated her from the ranger on the other side. There were scattered bird calls outside, and the occasional slow distraction of movement as visitors walked down the road. Hawke’s eyes rested on the windowsill, recently cleaned but still permanently smudged with years worth of dirt and dust.

 

“Hawke? Are you listening to me?”

 

Aveline’s logic was this.

 

  1.      Hawke was new in town.
  2.      Live action role-playing was a way to meet people.
  3.      Hawke was naturally competitive and melodramatic, and would probably do well as long as she didn’t get herself kicked out.



 

“I never said you were melodramatic.”

 

“So you’re saying that you _did_ say I was competitive?”

 

Aveline stared her down. It was strange to see her in her new uniform. It suited her, as did the sturdy and practical building she now worked in. The only problem Hawke saw was that it was too small. Unless the sleeves on the uniform could be ripped off and the office could be expanded, it was all too tight around someone like Aveline. It was a waste.

 

“I don’t have to help you, you know.”

 

“I never said I wanted you to help me. Who said I need help? Help with what?” Hawke considered putting her feet up on the desk, and decided it wasn’t worth it. Instead she folded her hands in her lap and crossed her legs, to further project an air of sophisticated detachment.

 

“Hawke.”

 

“This isn’t summer camp, Aveline. We’re not 15 anymore and you don’t have to look out for me.”

 

“And yet you still expect me to show up to bail you out of trouble. Strange, how that works.”

 

***

 

“Wait, what the hell is larp? It’s a fish, right?” Varric’s voice was clear despite the humidity and noise.

 

It was hot on the side of the freeway. They were picking up trash for a local artist who wanted random garbage for some modern project, and the wildflowers were blooming and tossing about as the cars roared by. The sky was almost white, and the heat was supposed to break by tonight after a thunderstorm. Hawke didn’t see a reason to disagree, but Varric had kept arguing on the bus ride, saying that there was no way in hell it was gonna rain that night. Hawke tucked her trash-poker under her arm and counted the words out on her fingers.

 

“It’s: Live. Action. Role. Playing.”

 

Varric stopped to inspect what was either a plastic bag or a miserable plant, “Which is?”

 

“A bunch of people dress up as wizards and beat each other up in the woods?”

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. And Aveline told you to do it?”

 

“She wants me to meet people in Kirkwall.”

 

Varric turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, a mockingly hurt tone in his voice, “You’ve met me. And my delightful brother.”

 

“She said I definitely need to meet someone other than you and your ‘seedy underbelly creep brother who, dammit, I will find a way to get arrested one of these days, Hawke’.”

 

“I haven’t seen Aveline since last week. I miss her.”

 

“She’s busy being a mall cop or something.”

 

“You mean park ranger?”

 

“Whatever. She said I either have to get a full-time job instead of my…”

 

“Our freelance work?”

 

“Instead of our freelance work. Or I can do a ‘recreational activity.’ Like live action role-playing. Aveline is literally threatening to blackmail me to my mom if I don’t beat up nerds in the woods with a cardboard sword.”

 

Varric dodged something under his feet, probably a lizard, “Well, I like it. We should do it.”

 

“We?”

 

“Of course. I could use it for my writing. Probably see a lot of weird shit.”

 

“I thought you said you were writing a sci-fi novel about evil ancient cuttlefish robots.”

 

“I am, but online I’ve been writing a ton of god awful fantasy romance crap.”

 

Hawke grinned as she bent down to pick up an empty fruit cup, “Oh yeah. I forgot- still doing fanfic requests for… what’s the mystery reader’s name again? ‘Truthseeker88?’ Or did they change it back to ‘scarprincex’? You still fill their prompts?”

 

“Shut it. I need _someone_ to read my work.”

 

“Fair enough. Also, I think I’ve contracted enough tetanus, let’s head back already.”

 

***

 

Hawke showed up to the entrance of the park with a plastic baseball bat, a smudge of Bethany’s lipstick over her nose, a fake fur-lined hoodie she already regretted wearing in the midday heat, and a smoothie. Varric stood beside her, shirt with three more buttons undone than usual, an obscenely large gold necklace, and a Nerf gun.

 

“Varric, we can’t use guns. Duh.”

 

“It’s a _crossbow_. Discontinued model.”

 

“Oh shit, wasn’t that Bianca’s?”

 

“This is really not the place where I want to talk about that.”

 

“Fine. No problem,” Hawke sucked at her straw. The smoothie was already gone. She tossed the cup into a trash can, wondering if Aveline would appear out of thin air to give her a citation if she littered.

 

“Hey, Hawke?”

 

“Yeah, Vare-bear?”

 

“You got some shit on your nose.”

 

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be blood. You know. Fantasy shit.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Fuck off. You’re gonna be shooting foam at people.”

 

“You underestimate me; I also have my cunning and deceptive nature.”

 

“Okay, but if anyone tries to wail on you with like, a ladle or something, I’ll try to stand close enough to laugh at you when it happens.”

 

Varric only grinned up at her, unnervingly confident. It was only now occurring to Hawke, standing at the mouth of the woods and past the “5 DOLLARS FOR PARKING” sign, that maybe this was a mistake. What if she wasn’t even good at this shit? What if the nerds were mean? Was there a LARP equivalent of a lifeguard? What if she got her ass kicked by a surprisingly buff nerd? She would have to pack up and move for the second time in a year.

 

There was the small sound of heavy footsteps on asphalt. Hawke turned around.

 

“Aveline?”

 

She was wearing a white tank top and khaki pants tucked into combat boots. Hawke half-expected her to order them to drop and give her fifty push-ups, if not for the bright pink fanny-pack hanging over Aveline’s hip. Hawke relaxed slightly just at the sight of her, and felt Varric do the same at her side. Aveline gave them a warm smile.

 

“Figured you might want some company. Seems you already found some, though. Hello, Varric. How are you?”

 

Varric’s voice dripped with gratingly fake adoration, but the kind he reserved for people he was actually glad to see, “Wonderful, Aveline. And you?”

 

“Still working through paperwork, but can’t complain. Now come on, can’t just stand out here forever. The weather’s pretty nice today.”

 

Aveline continued briskly walking straight past them, and Hawke fell into step beside her, “Hey, Aveline?”

 

“Yes, Hawke?”

 

“I’m really glad you’re here. Thanks.”

 

“Of course.”

 

***

 

Two hours later, Hawke was the only one left standing and a very tall grad student with impressively realistic horns on his head was about to bring a wooden axe down on her. She noticed, as he was too close for her to do much of anything except fall on her ass and hold up the baseball bat, that his eyes were red (contacts?) and the axe was connected to his belt with a metal chain. She could at least say she was killed the first day by a pro.

 

Like a coward, she flinched and looked away.

 

There was a dull sound of wood hitting thick plastic. Hawke looked up to see someone standing in front of her, black hair falling over a white dress. An opportune breeze blew past and the hair shifted to reveal a giant medallion of an earring. She glanced down quickly at her savior’s thigh-high boots and safely assumed she was supposed to be a pirate.

 

The savior, with the wind and dappled sunlight gracing her, spoke even as her daggers struggled to hold back the axe.

 

“Jesus Christ, Ari. You’re gonna seriously take someone out with that goddamned thing one of these days. Just tap the newbie and let her die, don’t send her to the hospital.”

 

Hawke watched as the axe was pulled back, although neither it nor the daggers were put away. The savior stepped aside, and before Hawke could move, the horned grad student tapped her gently on the neck with the edge of the axe. In a surprisingly deep but quiet voice:

 

“You’re dead.”

 

Hawke hesitated, then remembered what she was supposed to do, “Ah. I’m… dead. Agh.”

 

She fell slowly on her side, propping herself up on her arm to keep from poking her eye out on an errant branch. She was glad Varric had died tragically thirty minutes ago, and was therefore not present now to see her crumple like a middle school drama student. She opened her eyes slightly to watch the pirate speak.

 

“There. That wasn’t so hard.”

 

“Why are you even here, Isabela? I could easily kill you too.”

 

Isabela the pirate had a beautiful and brief laugh, “I wouldn’t be here if you could. The game just ended, Ari. It’s five in the afternoon, the park is going to close soon.”

 

Hawke closed her eyes again as Ari walked past her, his footsteps drawing close to her head. She realized that her heart had been beating audibly in her own ears since the fight had started. She resisted the urge to reach out and wrap her hands reassuringly around her baseball bat, abandoned a foot away from her. Another set of footsteps approached her, and she could feel the pirate waiting for her to speak.

 

“Do you plan on getting up, love?”

 

“… Am I allowed to?”

 

“The fun thing about all of this? You’re not actually dead. C’mon.”

 

Hawke opened her eyes to see a hand held out to her. The light caught on a bracelet on the wrist above the extended hand, and she glanced up past a muscular arm, past a heavy looking gold collar, to Isabela’s face.

 

She reached for the hand, and Isabela pulled her up.

 

***

 

Aveline drove Hawke and Varric home in the old van she’d had when she was still married. Varric pulled twigs out of his hair and complained about a knight who kept giving him a hard time about breaking rules, and Aveline only grunted in response between turn signals and said the knight sounded like a potentially good influence.

 

“Hardly. _Cassandra_ had a pretty bad temper for a goody-two-shoes. Actually, you might like them, Aveline.”

 

“Hm. What about you, Hawke? Did you meet anyone?”

 

“Huh? Yeah, I- I guess I met someone. Some people.”

 

 ***

 

The new house was small, but so was their old one. Her mother was sitting in a chair by the front window when Hawke got home, reading an outdated magazine. She looked up from it, hand keeping place on a page, smiling and tired.

 

“You’re home! Aveline told me you all went out for a group picnic of some sort. Did you have fun?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it was pretty nice actually-“

 

“Good! Could you help me start dinner?”

 

“Yeah, let me take my jacket off.”

 

“Did you get the milk and onions I asked for?”

 

“Yeah, they should be in the fridge. Did Uncle Gamlen fix the light in the kitchen yet?”

 

“No, he says- ah, here they are- he says he’s much too busy to come by and check on the property. Bethany keeps threatening to ride her bike to his house and drag him back here, but I’m sure he’ll drop in eventually.”

 

“Maybe. Oh, here’s the change back from groceries. You gave me too much money again.”

 

“Really? Oh, don’t forget to wash your hands, dear- and I could have sworn I gave you the right amount this time-“

 

“Nope, there was a sale. Where are Bethany and Carver?”

 

“Bethany’s studying, Carver’s at soccer practice. Could you pass me the pot, dear?”

 

“Yeah. I’ll start cutting onions.”

 

It was worth it, it was always worth it, for the beaming smile her mother afforded her: “I’m so lucky to have such lovely children. What would I do without you?”

 

Hawke just smiled and started chopping vegetables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hawke is like early 20s in this? carver and bethany are probably still in high school. cassandra will show up in person at some point and is they/them, also small cass/varric in the future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't romanticize someone just bc they dress like a pirate that's weird

The next week, Bethany and Carver came with her. Animals were not allowed, so the family dog had to stay home.

 

_You three never spend time together ever since we left Lothering. You should bring them with you next time. Aveline told me the picnic is a weekly event? I’m so glad she moved out here with us, it’s a shame she lives so far away now though. She said Varric goes to the picnic too… I never really imagined him as an outdoors type, but he’s a sweet young man. I’m sure Bethany and Carver will be happy to see him._

 

_Okay, mom._

 

The twins had played rock-paper-scissors over an old tennis racket found in the closet. After Carver had won, Bethany had settled for an aggressively large and hideous branch she found at the park entrance and declared herself a mage, which Carver found infuriating. Aveline and Varric went ahead and left Hawke to sort it out by herself. 

 

“Bethany can be a mage, Carver.”

 

“Says who?”

 

“To be honest? I’m not sure. I don’t know if there are any actual rules to this game. Which reminds me,” Hawke stopped walking up the road, and turned around in front of the path, “Under no circumstances will you two split up. Bethany, stay near your brother. Carver, stay near your sister.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“Don’t get smart with me.”

 

“You’ll stay with us, right?”

 

“Definitely, Beth. But in case for some reason we get separated, stay with each other. If one of you gets killed, just like. Tragically lie down next to each other. Don’t go running off and leaving each other’s dead bodies around the woods.”

 

Carver sighed loudly, but she knew he’d do as she told him.

________

The twins managed to survive for an hour, but Carver tripped at one point and it all went downhill, ‘it’ being Carver. Bethany had faithfully followed him down the hillside he had rolled to the bottom of, made sure none of his bones were broken, and then laid down next to him. Hawke had avenged them by poking a large grunge kid in the chest (“Uh. Bam. You’re dead.”) and told Varric and Aveline to go on without her once the battle was over. They walked away, arguing over whether or not Aveline was allowed to challenge people to arm-wrestling duels, as Hawke walked with awkward tumbling steps down the hillside, parting twigs and leaves with her sneakers.

 

Bethany tilted her head up to look at her, “Hey, sis. Carver got himself killed.”

 

“Only because I was defending you from an ogre while you tried to whack it with that branch.”

 

“I guess it was pretty big. I could have taken it though.”

 

Hawke crouched down next to them, knees pulled up to her chin, “You both did pretty well for your first time.”

 

Bethany: “Why aren’t you fighting still? Did you get killed too?”

 

“Nah, I just wanted to hang out with your corpses. I gotta defend them from vultures or necromancers or something.”

 

Carver: “What?”

 

“I don’t want to bring you both home late for dinner. I’m just gonna stay here so I don’t have to come back after the game and spend time looking for you two later.”

 

Bethany patted the sharp pile of pine needles and leaves between her and Carver, “Come play dead with us.”

 

Hawke shrugged and laid down. Bethany poked her wrist until she held her hand, and then they both pestered Carver until he agreed to unfold his arms across his chest and hold Hawke’s other hand. She looked up at the light coming through the trees, rubbing her thumb curiously over Carver’s knuckles.

 

“Did you get hurt or something? What am I feeling?”

 

“It’s a scrape from basketball, please stop prodding at it.”

 

Hawke stopped, “Bethany, how’s school going?”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“Cool. Both of you have to tell mom this was a quiet picnic, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Since the move to Kirkwall, Hawke had managed to find a way to avoid the two of them. She'd gotten so good at disappearing from rooms when they entered and appearing in rooms in the house once they left that it had become a strange sort of private comedy sketch. It was deliberate; it was for the forces of good. The day in the park had only proven this. Hawke had spent one day with them since Lothering and it had ended with them fighting strangers in the woods and dead on a hillside. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the way their hands felt in hers, and not on the way she’d continue tiptoeing around their lives to make sure she was the only family disappointment.

 

“What’s this?”

 

Hawke’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the voice. Bethany and Carver had already sat up, their hands slipping out of hers. The sun was bright through the leaves high above her.

 

“Aren’t you that fighter I saved from the Arishok? Don’t tell me you got yourself killed again.”

 

Hawke sat up. There was Isabela, a silhouette backlit by the angled afternoon light glancing through the trees, smug eyes and a genuine smile playing at her tilted mouth. Bethany spoke before anyone else could.

 

“Hawke didn’t die, she just wanted to lie down next to our dead bodies.”

 

“Well, she isn’t going to win anything doing that. And I don’t save anybody twice. At least not for free.”

 

Hawke spoke, finding her hand lifting itself off the ground on its own accord, “Isabela, this is my sister Bethany and my brother Carver. Guys, this is Isabela. She helped me out the other day.”

 

Isabela gave a lofty two-finger salute, “The pleasure’s mine. Your big sis actually did pretty well last time until she fell on her ass.”

 

“I-“

 

Again, Bethany, polite but steadfast as always, “Isabela, would you like to lay down with us? It’s itchy but very nice.”

 

Carver: “If you like being itchy.”

 

Before she could respond, a deep voice called out from the top of the hillside.

 

“Isabela? Where are you?”

 

“Fenris, I’m down here! I made some new friends.”

 

“Can they fight?”

 

“No, two of the them are dead and the other is sentimental.”

 

There was no returning shout, and Hawke turned to see someone with white hair and a plastic sword as big as their body skidding down the hill.  Their ears had little wax points on them; an elf. They were grimacing. They walked to Isabela’s side, ignoring the siblings on the ground.

 

“We’re wasting time. Danarius is missing three people today, it’s a perfect time to get him.”

 

“You are so bloodthirsty. It’s just a game.”

 

“Maybe, but he’s an asshole.”

 

“That _is_ true. By the way, this is Bethany, Carver, and- I never got your name.”

 

She inhaled audibly without meaning to and hoped it sounded less pathetic than it felt, “Hawke.”

 

Isabela’s smile was, for an instant, small and private instead of smug, “Well, see you around, Hawke.”

 ________

The next week passed slowly and yet all at once. No matter what Hawke was doing, there was the pull of the weekend at her shoulders and a crooked toothed, sharp smile in the back of her mind. Sometimes, in some daydream, she’d find herself tapping her fingers in an orderly fashion against the bus window or her own leg as if she was strumming an invisible harp. Varric, prone recently to his own lost moments as he stared at an empty notebook, once looked up at her blankly only to do a double take. The sounds of the pancake house around them suddenly returned.

 

“What are you thinking about? You’ve been quiet.” 

 

“What? Ah. No. I’m just tired.”

 

“I know work has been kind of slow but I’m sure we’ll find something soon. Somebody always needs help moving or something painted or burned down in this town.”

 

Hawke had winced at ‘burned down’.

 

“Ah, shit. Sorry. I forgot. Anyways, how are Bethany and Carver? Did they have fun this weekend?”

 

“Yeah. Bethany’s an honor roll and Carver is kind of a jock but deep down, they both just want to dress up in bathrobes and pretend dragons are real.”

 

“Runs in the family?”

 

“Very funny. Hell though, maybe I should bring mom next time. Uncle Gamlen too, if only for how convenient it’d be to hide his body. What about you? You and Aveline had fun?”

 

He rolled his eyes and idly scraped his fork across some hashbrowns, “Aveline had a _great_ time. Kept blushing and insisting we stay close to this one guy. Don? Donny? I don’t know.”

 

“Was he cute?” Hawke let her eyes drift over the syrups on the table, biting back something rude. Varric must have been thinking the same thing.

 

“Eh. You know Aveline.”

 

“I do. As long as he’s not another Wesley, I’ll keep the brass knuckles in my purse.”

 

“Is it weird that I can’t tell if you’re joking?”

 

Hawke just smiled at her cold eggs, “What about you? Anyone interesting? Worth writing about?”

 

“Sure. That knight was there again, gonna write a biography about them called ‘Huge Pain in the Ass.’ Maybe ‘The Devil Finally Sent Someone To Get Me and Their Name is Cassandra Pentaghast’.”

 

“Wow, you know their full name? You must like this huge pain in the ass.”

 

Varric shook his head as if to shake a bad thought off it, “Can’t even acknowledge that kind of slander. What’s up with you and that pirate girl that Bethany tweeted about?”

 

“Tweeted? Bethany tweeted about her?”

 

“Yeah. Said she was funny and a friend of yours.”

 

Hawke shrugged. A pointless gesture; her face was clearly red under the fluorescent lamps and noon daylight.

 

It was hard to say. Isabela had seemed funny. She seemed interesting, she seemed strangely brave and pragmatic and self-preserving, and she smelled like saltwater and linen. But Isabela was also a stranger, and that part of her character was more definite than any other. Hawke held her glass of ice water to her mouth and set it down without drinking, her hand now wet from condensation. She suddenly saw her own feelings clearly. It couldn’t even really be called a crush. It would be unfair to project a thousand ideals on someone who pretended to be a pirate for fun. She hardly knew the woman, but that was the point. What she wanted most of all, and what she had not expected in the midst of general apathy that had clung to her since leaving Lothering, was for Isabela not to be a stranger.

 

“I think I like her. I’m gonna try to talk to her next week and see if she wants to hang out.”

 

“Good. I wanna meet her. Aveline said she’s too busy to go this weekend and we need more people if we’re ever gonna win anything.”

___________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah merrill should be in the next chapter! i'm excited bc i love her


	3. Chapter 3

The next week, Hawke and Varric showed up early at the entrance. A loose, small crowd of people were already gathered and waiting to start, eating energy bars and laughing. Hawke stood on tiptoes to look for a glint of gold.

 

“You see her?”

 

“No. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t know if she’s the type of person to show up on time for stuff. She might not be here yet.”

 

“Shit. Well, you ran into her by coincidence the last two times, maybe- Oh hell.”

 

“What?” Hawke didn’t need to hear an answer though. As soon as she asked, she noticed the two people arguing in the middle of the dirt road. One was a knight with cropped hair and the other was the same elf who had been with Isabela. Both were sneering.

 

“You know it’s against the local rules to target one person more than five times in a row, Fenris. This is not an outlet for your violent grudge matches.”

 

“I haven’t been targeting Danarius. Ask anyone, I’ve been fighting other people.”

 

The knight let out a disgusted noise, “Everyone knows you are deliberately tapping out new people so you can pretend you’re not here to fight him. Whatever is going on between you two, I want it resolved. This kind of behavior creates a negative, and frankly terrifying, environment for casual players.”

 

Before Fenris could respond, his mouth already set in a teeth-displaying growl, Hawke watched Varric stroll up to the two. The knight seemed to recognize him, and their mouth curled into a long, vicious line.

 

“Varric.”

 

“Cassandra. Tormenting rule-breakers as usual?”

 

“This doesn’t concern you. Walk away.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I just happened to overhear. You want this resolved, right?”

 

Cassandra squinted their eyes at him, suspicious, “I’m an administrator. I just want everyone to feel safe.”

 

Fenris broke back in, “Danarius is paying people to fight for him. I hardly think anyone feels safe when people like him are monopolizing the entire game.”

 

Cassandra looked between the both of them, “So. What do you propose I do then?”

 

Varric shrugged, “This elf here wants to kick his ass, right?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Well, give him one more day to do it. In fact, my friend and I will even help him out. If we can’t beat Danarius and his little mercenaries by the end of today’s fighting, then Fenris will quit forever. Or pay a penalty, or shit, whatever the punishment for this sort of thing is.”

 

Hawke, still standing a few feet away, thought but couldn’t be sure that she saw a slight upward pull at Cassandra’s mouth, “Fine. Fenris, do you agree to this?”

 

Fenris looked down at Varric, wary, but he nodded, “Yes.”

 

Hawke watched as Cassandra walked away and Varric introduced himself to Fenris, and felt a sudden weight on her shoulder. She turned to see Isabela’s elbow, and Isabela herself leaning heavily on her. She was also watching the scene, a distant tone in her voice despite her physical proximity.

 

“You’ve got an interesting friend, Hawke. Today should be fun.”

 

***

 

There was hardly any reason to walk with their heads low and their backs bent, but Isabela and Hawke wordlessly did it anyways. The plan was for the four of them to split up and attack Danarius’s usual hideout from both sides, Fenris and Varric approaching from the official trail as a distraction and Isabela and Hawke from the thin and winding dirt paths through the woods. Isabela had not said a word since they had started walking.

 

“Are we sure Danarius is actually gonna be there?”

 

For a moment Hawke thought Isabela might not have heard her over the slight distance between them, or had chosen to ignore her, but she spoke after a moment.

 

“He and his group always hang out at the only trail benches that aren’t overrun by ants or claimed by Girl Scouts. He likes to pick fights with the players who come by to stop and rest.”

 

“Ew. I can see why Fenris wants to fight him.”

 

“Him and Fenris… Danarius would always pick on him, ever since Fenris started playing. He’s a bully who found a replacement for high school. He’s pathetic.”

 

“You can’t stand him either, can you?”

 

“Hm. We’re getting closer, we should be quiet.”

 

They were approaching a thinning in the trees, presumably from a clearing, and voices could already be heard arguing. Hawke made the move to step out from behind the tall bush that hid them, but was stopped by Isabela’s firm hand on her stomach. Hawke looked through the leaves and realized why.

 

There was a group of men; one presumably a mage, leader, and wretched asshole by his mannerisms and clothes. They were all standing in a circle around a small and calm person at a table with plastic pointed ears so large that Hawke was surprised they were even capable of staying on. The elf was holding a sandwich in both hands over a lunchbox and seemed unworried, though a bit annoyed. Varric and Fenris were nowhere in sight. Danarius’s voice was audible.

 

“We told you, elf. Move!”

 

It was harder to hear the elf’s voice, but if Hawke closed her eyes she could make it out.

 

“I don’t see why. I’ll be done eating in a moment.”

 

Danarius sounded livid; it was likely that the argument had been happening for some time.

 

“We don’t care! Get up and leave or fight us!”

 

The elf remained unconcerned, and did not even reach for the walking stick in their lap,“If you want to fight, I’d be happy to. I’d just like to finish my sandwich first, is what I’m saying.”

 

“Fuck your sandwich!”

 

“What’s wrong with my sandwich?”

 

“You can’t fucking eat here!”

 

The elf put it back down in the lunchbox and stood up, hardly more than half Danarius’s height and completely alone, and pressed the walking stick into the ground in front of them with a firmness that brought to mind the defiance of Moses.

 

“You know, I don’t really like being told what to do.”

 

At that moment, several things happened in quick and unexpected succession.

 

As soon as the elf had finished speaking, Danarius’s guards had run forward towards them. To the surprise of everyone else, Fenris and Varric immediately jumped out from behind trees on the opposite side of the clearing. Seeing this, Isabela and Hawke leaped out from their own side. Finally, as Hawke ran towards the fight with baseball bat righteously extended in her grip, the sandwich elf turned to see her and knocked all the wind out of her with a solid jab in the stomach.

 

Hawke fell on the ground and decided that move had probably killed her for the day.

 *

“I’m so, so sorry!”

 

“It’s alright, really. I’m fine.”

 

“I thought you were one of that man’s guards! I’m so sorry.”

 

“Merrill- your name’s Merrill, right? It’s fine. I shouldn’t have run out from the bushes screaming anyway, I would have hit me too.”

 

Varric muttered from the other side of bench, writing something down in his notebook, “Maybe not quite so hard…”

 

Hawke shot him a dirty look, and then went back to assuring the elf that there were really no hard feelings. Merrill continued murmuring to herself under her breath as she pressed an iced tea from a vending machine to Hawke’s stomach. Fenris had wandered off to be alone, and Isabela was sitting on the table eating the rest of the lunch, which Merrill had insisted they accept from her as a sign of her gratitude. Isabela ran her fingers across her shorts to get rid of the the chip crumbs and grease, seemed satisfied, and then leaned across the table with her head propped up in her hand.

 

“Merrill, do you always fight alone?”

 

“Hm? Ah, no. I mean, now I do, I guess. But I used to fight with some of my cousins, until my grandmother said it was too dangerous. She’s not too happy with me anymore, but it’s fun! It’s so nice to get outdoors.”

 

“Why don’t you join us? And I think my stomach’s fine now, don’t worry,” Hawke pushed the drink back gently into Merrill’s hands, trying not to wince at the bruise she felt forming in her abdomen.

 

“Really? You’d really want me to play with you all? Even after I hit you…”

 

Varric laughed from the other side of the table, still writing, “All the more reason. I would hate to be your enemy after seeing Hawke knocked down,” before Hawke could hiss at him, he continued more seriously, “And I don’t like the thought of you fending for yourself if we’re not around to help next time.”

 

“Not to mention, you’re braver than most. Why not, kitten?” Isabela smiled at her, the gentle kind that Hawke had only seen before in quick flashes.

 

Merrill accepted.

*

By the time they had walked to the bus stop, it had begun getting darker. The sky was still light blue but with a purple touch to it, and a breeze picked up that brushed off some of the heat of the midday. Fenris had biked off, and Varric had volunteered to walk Merrill home.

 

“So are you from Kirkwall?”

 

“Nah. You?”

 

Isabela gave her a sidelong glance, “Ever heard of a place called Rivain?”

 

“No.”

 

“Fair enough, nobody has. It’s a fishing town, not that big. Pretty though, if you get past the fish smell.”

 

“Why’d you move?”

 

“Why did you?”

 

Hawke stared at her silently as they walked, not able to think of anything, and Isabela finally laughed, “Fine. Didn’t mean to pry quite so soon. I’m guessing we’re fighting together from now on though, right? Unless you plan on doing split custody with Merrill.”

 

“No, it’s- Sorry. It’s kind of personal.”

 

“Like I said, no problem.”

 

Hawke breathed out, relieved, “And yeah, me and Varric were talking about joining up with you and Fenris.”

 

Isabela shifted closer to her, lifting her shoulder coyly, “Oh, were you?”

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, we just don’t want to spend every weekend getting our asses kicked.”

 

“Sure. Of course, it has nothing to do with my charm or grace. Or legs. Or ass.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. We all get it, you’re hot, I know.”

 

Isabela’s eyebrows jumped, and she started cackling, “Oh my God, I didn’t think you’d actually admit it. That’s adorable.”

 

They’d reached the sign by the side of the road that marked the bus stop. The forest was still with them, on the other side of the path that substituted a sidewalk and separated by a chain link fence overgrown with leaves and the occasional plastic bag. A bus was coming down the road. Hawke was blushing.

 

“Yeah. Well. Did I ever thank you for saving me that one time?”

 

“Probably, I can’t remember. That reminds me though-“

 

Before Hawke could understand what was happening, Isabela was leaning towards her. There was a kiss on her cheek, and then a voice in her ear. It had to be Isabela’s, but she almost didn't recognize it without the usual teasing laughter buried in it. 

 

“Thank you. For today. I really do appreciate you helping us.”

 

And then suddenly the air next to her cheek was cold, and Isabela was a reasonable distance away from her again. The smirk was back on her face.

 

“And by ‘helping’, I mean ‘immediately getting knocked on your ass again’,” Isabela winked at her before turning to get on the bus that was now slowing down in front of them, “You looked cute while doing it though.”

 

And like that, the bus doors closed, and the hulking machine accelerated away before Hawke could even try to see Isabela through the scratched windows. She realized she had one hand on her face and the other was gripping a piece of paper. She pulled it out of her sweaty palm and unwrinkled it. She vaguely remembered it being given to her seconds ago.

 

It was a phone number.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hawke is...... a loser


End file.
